


Thirty-Second Secret

by lettalady



Series: Blips and Blurbs [44]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: Assumptions that go uncorrected and grand reveals. Hiddleston puts his foot in his mouth.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & You
Series: Blips and Blurbs [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925065
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Thirty-Second Secret

Book tours can get wild. Really. Not just in the science-fiction genre, but universally. Non-fiction, fiction, action, adventure… the romance crowd definitely surprised me. You’d be amazed at some of the things that happen. Oh the stories I could tell. I never attend as myself, or rather, I allow someone else to bask in the limelight while I watch from the sidelines. It’s almost always Gavin. He’s been with me since the beginning, so – plenty of practice – and I feed him answers via an earpiece if anything comes up that we haven’t previously discussed. If anything most people assume I’m a handler, or assistant, or just a close friend coming along for moral support, never J.B. Barlow, the mind behind the book they’re lining up to have signed while the author is curiously, continuously, absent. Honestly I think that little bit of mystery is half the reason my books are on the best seller list.

The book tours don’t really compare to the bustle of a convention. The reason I’m here? A studio decided to attempt to adapt one of my books, the first book from one of my more popular series. If things go well… Well, we’ll get to that.

* * *

My publisher is one of the few that knows that the person behind the stories is actually a thirty-something young woman. I signed on to consult, via proxy, managing to maintain my distance for the most part. It’s complicated, the hoops everyone is having to jump through to allow me to view some of the dailies and give them my input. That’s part of the reason for my attendance of this panel today. Part of the give and take with the studio. An unmasking of the reclusive J.B. Barlow.

There will no more blurry grey box on the back of my book covers. No more filter between me and the public. It’ll be interesting to see the change in the questions directed at me, if interesting is really the word I’m looking for.

I woke with my pulse racing even before the first sip of coffee. The habitual cup, something documented as needed upon my arrival, now sits untouched on the waist high table next to the seat I can’t seem to remain planted in. Pacing while flipping through notes on my tablet is keeping me grounded, for the moment. I should have issued a quiet press release. A picture and a blurb. Technically that would have fulfilled my agreement with the studio to the letter without me needing to be present. Of course, that route would have burned a few bridges I might need in the future.

While nerves are keeping me antsy, there is a bit of appeal to this situation. It coincides with the release of the next book in the series – hopefully meaning an additional spike in sales – and I’ll be able to abandon the complicated smoke and mirrors. Plus, most of the cast will be attending this panel, as well. They’ve been perfect. They are, of course, not exactly as I dreamt them, but so close that it gave me chills as I watched the snippets of audition material and dailies that filtered back to me through secure servers. Each of the actors were provided the source material, and additional packets that I created to ensure they got to know the characters they’d be inhabiting, but I’m still thrilled to finally be able to hear their thoughts regarding their characters. Only one of the bunch initiated an exchange with me via emails in an attempt to further pick my brain.

Think of the devil and he will appear. Some of the actors are led into the room, limiting the space I have to pace as I try to expel this nervous energy. Mentally I do my best imitation of a Jedi – _Pay no attention to the woman in the corner._ I do my best to ignore their enthusiastic chatter as I flip through notes on my tablet.

“Better to be late and caffeinated or early and bleary-eyed?”

Only half listening to the conversations going on in the antechamber, it takes me a second to realize that the attempt at conversation is directed at me. One of the actors has moved away from the rest, ignoring or simply not caring that I’ve got my eyes glued to the 8x10 screen I’ve got clutched in my hands.

Is he just philosophizing or an accusation regarding my appearance? Caffeinated is the answer. Hands down. Except for maybe when butterflies are swarming within you and you think you might need to bolt down the hallway to the nearest bathroom to throw up. I consider answering but opening my mouth will probably result in the latter coming to pass, never mind the implied insult if he’s telling me I look a hot mess.

I need a sign that says: _Reclusive writer. DND_. 

He’s not having any trouble in the words department, nor does he seem to be bothered that I haven’t yet responded to him. He keeps chugging along, “Who’re you with?”

Caught between annoyance and a desire to engage with him, I tuck my tablet under my arm and look up, recognizing him instantly. Tom Hiddleston. But he, of course, doesn’t know me from Job despite the emails exchanged between us. I wonder if we have enough time to allow him to recognize the pattern of speech and realize who I am if I just give him a little nudge. “J.B.”

His eyes light up, and for a second I think he’s already there. A secret smile is already forming on my lips when his eyes dart away from mine, noting the empty chair and the untouched mug on the table beside it. “J.B.? Oh! Can’t wait to meet him, officially.”

The warmth dissipates, along with the conspiratorial smile. I wave goodbye to the notion that Hiddleston could be in on my little secret before I make the announcement to the rest of the world. He’s making the same assumption as the rest. Of course I’m just an assistant. Couldn’t possibly be something more.

On and on he rambles. “I’m such a fan. Such a fan. Of course I’ve done my homework on the series but – well I haven’t been able to slog through _all_ of it yet but I’ve added everything to my reading queue. Hey could you, would you, do you think J.B. would might you getting me a coffee? I’d hate to miss the opportunity to chat him up before we go out there.”

He’s returning my surprised and mildly annoyed expression with a look of thin patience. Clearly he not only thinks I’m J.B.’s assistant, but that I’m slacking on my job and need to scurry off to refresh my boss’ cup and – hey, since I’ll be at it anyway – get him a cup too.

Now would be a great time to yank my badge from my pocket and tell him off for making assumptions based on appearance, but I’m caught between my indignation and the urge to keep from furthering this embarrassing moment by just getting him a damned cup of coffee. Had I been more observant when the volunteer brought me my cup I’d at least know which general direction to head.

Exiting the antechamber, and failing all else just allowing my gut to tell me to turn right, I don’t get far down the corridor before getting stopped by security. One glimpse at my badge lets him know I’m allowed to be here but probably shouldn’t be wandering.

“Just looking for coffee?”

I hope a half smile will net me an answer versus being told to turn around and go back to wait for my panel to begin. The guard snags a harried looking person, diverting them from their path by hooking their arm and swinging them to a halt next to me, “She needs a cup of coffee.”

“Just lead the way.” I interrupt, figuring it’s the easiest way to keep from being shoved back in the direction of the antechamber emptyhanded. My plan to offer assistance, maybe carry one or both of the cups back, is cut off by the look I get from the guard. “Ah, or I can just ask for cream and sugar and you’ll need to see this…” I sigh, showing the tech my pass so they know where to bring the requested cup, and then rerouting to return to the antechamber I left a few minutes ago. There’s always the chance my reappearance will go unnoticed, as well as the fact that I’m still just carrying my tablet, nothing more.

Just before slipping back into the antechamber I realize I don’t _actually_ need to reenter the room, yet. I can hear the goings on inside well enough, so I won’t miss the announcement to go on stage. When the tech arrives with Hiddleston’s coffee I can just send them right on in to give it to him. To prevent any additional hassle, I slip my lanyard around my neck, taking care to make sure that my badge is facing outward.

After motioning the requested cup of coffee in – with instructions as to which of the actors to hand it to – I keep an eye on the time, counting down the dwindling minutes until the music swells and cuts off. The boom of an announcement alerts everyone in close proximity that the panel is about to begin and all should be taking their seats. The flurry of activity going on behind the scenes is amazing to watch. I do my best to stay well out of the way.

One by one the cast is called out onto the stage and I wait for my moment to slip back into the antechamber. Once they call Hiddleston’s name the coast will be clear. Except they’re apparently not going in alphabetical order. Of course not. All five of the other actors in attendance are called out on stage before they finally get around to summoning Tom.

The look I get from the tech in the antechamber as I slip back into the room is panic mingled with annoyance. He, too, appears to assume that I’m a mere assistant, and that I’ve managed to lose my boss. “ _Where is Barlow?!_ ” He hisses the words at me, hand covering the mic attached to his ear. “ _They’re calling him onstage!!_ ”

This won’t be a mistake anyone makes for much longer. It’ll be this tech, rather than Tom, that gets to share my secret thirty seconds longer than the rest. “ _I’m_ Barlow.” Giving up my anonymity has been something that has kept me on edge, but the moment the words are out of my mouth a weight lifts. The almost sick feeling that has haunted me since waking this morning disappears.

The tech is still staring at me, unblinking with his mouth hanging slightly open, as I wait for my cue, listening to my introduction boom out into the room.

_THE STUDIO HAS ONE MORE SURPRISE FOR US BEFORE THE PANEL GETS GOING. FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER THE BEST SELLING AUTHOR JB BARLOW WILL BE MAKING A PUBLIC APPEARANCE, JOINING US TO SHARE SOME INSIGHT INTO THE SERIES THAT INSPIRED THE FILM._

The stage lights hitting my skin as I step from behind the curtains bring the temperature of the room up a few degrees. I’m half listening to the crowd, a weird mixture of applause and conversation. Most of my attention is focused on smiling, and finding the empty seat meant for me. The moment I spot it – right next to Tom – I nearly break into a fit of laughter. He’s bright red, and has a look on his face that goes beyond the curiosity and confusion I can see expressed by each of the members of the rest of the cast. 

_Yep, that’s right Hiddleston,_ I think, with a surprising bit of satisfaction as I claim my seat, _you just asked me to get you a coffee, you tit._


End file.
